


Memories of Moira

by NotAWerewolf42



Series: Memories of Moira [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a light sprinkling of fluff, F/F, Reflection, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 10:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14446965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAWerewolf42/pseuds/NotAWerewolf42
Summary: Moira O’Deorain.The name means much to Angela. A work colleague. A rival. A lover. But as she reflects on her past with the disgraced doctor, she can’t help but reminisce about the times they shared, the good and the bad.Written from the perspective of Dr Angela “Mercy” Ziegler.





	Memories of Moira

Moira.

I can remember when I first met her; I was still new to Overwatch, a young prodigy with goals of curing every disease, aid every ailing person. I was naive, but I believed that I could do it. And when I was told that another esteemed scientist would be joining me in the labs, working on genetic therapy and research, I made sure to make a good first impression. I greeted her as she entered the main laboratory, and held my hand out to welcome her to Overwatch.

And Moira laughed in my face.

She was so full of herself, so arrogant. She quickly made it clear that no-one was to bother her while she worked, as no-one could possibly match her intellect. Anyone who tried to talk to the tall red-haired scientist could go no more than a few minutes with her before giving up and storming off. They gave up on trying to talk to her, trying to gain her respect, because Moira had no intention of giving them any.

But I didn’t give up.

At first, it was just another problem for me to solve: help Moira out of her shell. But as I pushed and pushed my way into Moira’s life, I found myself more and more intrigued by the woman. She lacked boundaries, pushed science to levels that it really should not go to. And yet, it was hard to argue with the results. And she was egotistical to a fault, yet she was entertaining in her own way, her wit knowing no bounds. 

And she was handsome. She was lean, and her beautiful heterochromic eyes kept drawing me in, making me want to learn all of Moira, inside and out.

And that was the woman I fell for

* * *

 

The next few months were spent enthralled in fiery passion. During the day, in that lab, we would laugh, argue, discuss methods of research, and butt heads over ethics. But by night, we would greet each other with fervent kisses, tearing each others clothes off as though our skin were on fire.

Just remembering those nights brings a flush to my face.

We could barely keep our hands off each other, each of us quickly learning what brought the other closer, and closer to the edge. I’d watch her heterochromic eyes from below, as they rolled back into her head in ecstacy. And I’d quiver under those same eyes as the tension that she had thrust upon my body would fall away, as her name would fall from my lips in a worn out moan.

God am I glad the walls were thick at Overwatch. The last thing I needed was someone like Lena to listen in: I’d never hear the end of it.

And then we would go back to the lab the next day and act as though none of it ever happened. Not because it was a secret, but because Moira and I agreed on one thing: keep work and pleasure separate.

Though even that rule could be broken, when I found myself crying out in pleasure in her office.

It wasn’t healthy. I think we always both understood that. I resented her lack of morals, her egotism, her stuck-up attitude. She thought the same of me, as she made clear many times: according to her I was just as self-centered, just as conceited. And I hated that she thought that of me, or worse, that I was beginning to think it myself, beginning to realize that my lofty goals were nearly impossible.

But nothing could stop my attraction to her.

And when attraction began to turn into something more, I tried to evaluate what Moira thought of me. Likely, I thought, she just wants this to be a physical thing. Sex, and nothing more. But I held out some hope, as I laid awake at night next to her lithe naked form, breathing in her sex addled scent, that perhaps, she felt something more.

Like I felt about her.

* * *

 

When everything came undone for Moira, when she got tossed out by Overwatch and discarded by the wider world, she spent the night at my place. 

I poured us each a mug of tea that neither of us drank, and sat down next her in silence. We watched as she was torn apart on every channel, every outlet. No one would associate with her, every person she had ever known throwing her to the curb. I told myself that I wouldn’t do the same, that I would stay by her side.

But in reality, the truths that had come out that day had shocked me as much as it had shocked the rest of the world. I had known some of what she had done, I had worked with her everyday in that lab. And I’d never liked her methods. But to find out just how far her experiments went, it made me question everything I knew about her.

“You know, I could fight for you. I would,” I told her.

“We can only progress with sacrifice. Those fools cannot see that, they will not ever understand,” she replied, the first words she had said in hours.

“I understand,” I said, trying to get Moira to meet my gaze. “But perhaps if you followed the rules closer, you might find that you can progres science just as well.”

She hummed agreement, but I could tell she didn’t truly believe me.

As we laid down in bed that night, and Moira shrugged off my attempts to comfort her, I began to realize that we had passed the height of out relationship.

It was only downhill from there.

* * *

 

When Gabriel offered her a job at Blackwatch, my emotions were mixed. I was happy that Moira might return to the work she enjoyed, and be free to work without the restrictions she so despised. And though Blackwatch, and Moira herself, were kept as separate as possible from Overwatch, it was good to know that she was still close to me in some way.

But I could not help but fear what Moira might do, unrestrained as she was. Blackwatch didn’t hold itself to the same rules as Overwatch did.

The more time Moira spent at Blackwatch, the less she spent with me. Nightly excursions turned weekly. Dates, or whatever it was we called them, got regularly canceled, Moira claiming that she had too much work. But I know that what she meant was that her work mattered more.

It was only a matter of time until we never saw each other again.

* * *

 

I never got to say goodbye to her. Not in person.

It had been weeks since I had heard anything from her, though I was too busy cleaning out my desk at Overwatch to really try. The disaster at the Swiss base took its toll on me, and then to have the Petras Act shut us down? All I had really wanted was some closure.

I managed to find Moira’s lab, or what was left of it. Most of the equipment was gone, and the woman herself was nowhere to be seen. Just a few folders and dusty flasks.

I had written a letter, mostly so that I could remember what I wanted to say to her. But as I waited for a few minutes with no sign of Moira appearing, I knew that I couldn’t wait forever for a woman that may not ever show.

I signed the letter proper, slid it into one of the folders that looked like it belonged to her, and left.

When I walked out of the Overwatch headquarters in Gibraltar for the last time, I left so much of my life behind. Not just Overwatch, or my work, or my friends.

I left Moira behind.

* * *

 

And now, as I lay down in bed, the olive toned arms of Fareeha wrapped around my chest, I can’t help but reflect on the times I spent with Moira. 

I love Fareeha, truly. She means so much to me, and she is wise and funny and beautiful. She lifts me when I am down. She is a shining light in my life, giving me hope for the future. She completes me.

And I knew, even then, that Moira was not healthy for me, nor was I made for her. In the end, it could never have worked out. We were two vastly different people.

But on nights like these, as I feel Fareeha pressed against my back and I look out the window into the night, I cannot help but wonder what might have happened if life had gone a different direction. If we had not been torn apart by the world around us.

Would she ever have loved me?

* * *

 

**Epilogue**

Somewhere in a hidden military stronghold, a red-haired scientist continued to work on her experiments. She came to an abrupt block in her tests, as she struggled to understand what was missing. She recalled having seen some of these numbers before, and walked over to pull and old folder from a filing cabinet. Most of her work was kept electronically, but the Irish woman was always a fan of old fashioned pen and paper.

She searched through the documents in the folder, hoping to find something to aid her with this new problem, when she stumbled upon an old letter. She immediately recognized the neat handwriting.

“Angela,” she said quietly, before ensuring there was no one around to see her. She sat at her desk, to read a letter she had never known existed.

_ Moira, _

_ I know that this is probably the last time I’ll ever speak to you. There’s so much I wish I could have said before, when we had the time. When the world wasn’t crashing down around us. But we don’t have that time now.  _

_ I’m not sure how I feel about you. We’ve always been such opposites. Such a poor pair, with diametrically opposing views. And yet I couldn’t help but be attracted to you. And I won’t lie, it became so much more than attraction. _

_ I love you. But we aren’t healthy, we bring out the worst in eachother. We tell eachother to keep work separate, but it’s impossible. We’re just too different. I love you, and that’s why we can never be together.  _

_ I wish you the best Moira. I hope you find someone better than I. _

_ Your Angel, _

_ Angela _

Somewhere, in a secret lab, in secret base populated mainly by soldiers for a dark cause, a red-haired woman sheds a tear.

She folds the letter up, and carefully places it into her breast pocket. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a bit of an experiment for me. The Mercy/Moira dynamic is something I find interesting, and I wanted to write something kinda angsty. Let me know if you like it, or if there’s something else you’d be interested in reading!
> 
> -NotAWerewolf42, beta’d by nival_kenival


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